Live
by Honeysuckle Strange
Summary: Oliver Wood always thought highly of Remus Lupin. As time goes by, he learns just how important the werewolf is to him. This is SLASH, although it is not graphic. A rare pairing I thought needed to be done. Contains DH spoilers. Please read and Respond


He leaned his head heavily against the cool glass, feeling his entire body sag. The weight of the last few years crashed down upon him with such strangling pressure that he nearly collapsed.

Outside, the lawn was a tangle of wounded and their loved ones, all grateful to be alive. He watched lovers embracing, families reuniting and old wounds finally beginning to heal.

His own reflection was superimposed over the sight before him. He pondered his features. His dark eyes were surrounded by a premature clutch of lines; his brow was etched deeply with the troughs of constant worry. His broad, Quidditch toned shoulders were hunched with the seemingly endless pain and heartbreak of watching too many people die too young, and with in such a short span. Especially one.

Oliver had always thought Remus Lupin was a kind fellow. He'd remembered Remus's infrequent visits to his parents' house fondly. The werewolf's soft, gentle voice and caring eyes stood in contrast to the violent white scars that covered his face and body… Lupin's surprisingly musical laugh- these were very pleasant memories to Oliver.

The Wood family had what may have been considered a soft spot for werewolves. Oliver's paternal grandfather had been bitten late in life. Oliver's father, Emmet had immediately stopped researching sphinxes and dragons and rerouted his efforts into becoming an expert lycanologist. Emmit's old school chum, Remus Lupin had kindly volunteered to be tracked and measured for the sake of the slightly older man's research. And so, when the wolf came to roam in the corner of Scotland occupied by the Wood family, they had a werewolf to dinner.

When Remus appeared, fresh from a moon, young Oliver liked to sit close. It was part curiosity. He looked up into the warm face he knew so well and tried to reconcile the notion of Remus the wild, untamed wolf, with the shy man with the incredibly human smile.

There was another reason that Oliver liked to sit almost too close to Remus Lupin: the smell. After the wolf had been freed from the man, Lupin returned to society with the scent of wilderness upon him. Nothing, not a swim in the bath, or a well placed _scourgify_, could remove the fragrance until it had simply run its course. It was somewhere between flying around the back garden on his older brother's broom and getting a face full of peat playing rugby with his muggle second cousins, and yet it was nothing like either of those. It was inherently an aroma that, even as a youngster, Oliver found very exciting.

Oliver had been in his last year at Hogwarts when Remus came to teach. He was glad to have the werewolf as an ally in the venerable stone halls. He was also very glad that he was doing N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts. He hadn't been sure he had wanted to continue with the subject, but his father had insisted, given the previous year's near misses and the temporary removal of Dumbledore that had ensued.

Oliver was glad for Remus's presence again, when at Christmastime, his grandfather was killed by Lucius Malfoy's silver bullet. Malfoy claimed self-defense, and was never arrested, as the werewolf had been hunting on his property. Oliver had just finished the last Quidditch game before the Christmas holiday when he heard the news.

Remus had listened patiently as Oliver, still in his Quidditch robes, sobbed his way through the painful tale. He had hugged the burly Quidditch captain when the young man could no longer find words to describe the ways he would like to torture Lucius Malfoy.

He had fed Oliver chocolate (which really did help) and some rather weak tea… but the most remarkable part to Oliver, was that as he told the werewolf about what fate had befallen his loveable grandfather, Remus Lupin cried.

When the tears had dried, the two had sat in silence on the battered sofa in Lupin's office. The sturdy clock on the wall ticked them steadily forward in life. Oliver had looked up from the bottom of his teacup, which he had been pondering to find Remus's eyes on him. A moment passed of amber burning into brown.

Without thought or foresight and with the speed and accuracy of one whose reflexes had been honed by hours of Quidditch practice, Oliver snatched Remus into his arms. Lips met with a hunger more fierce than either man had thought possible.

Oliver's hands flew over the older man's waist coated torso, fingers begging entry. He barely recognized the sound of his voice as he moaned, the sound coaxed from his lips by Remus's soft tongue. The former marauder pressed the Quidditch captain into the soft, worn velvet of the sofa, sliding his hands beneath Oliver's shirt as he did. Remus's hands were surprisingly cool, sliding like beach stones over the chiseled muscles of Oliver's belly. Remus growled deep in his throat, scratching and tugging until he had relieved the younger man of his shirt.

Oliver had delighted in unbuttoning Lupin's waistcoat, and pushing the offending garment down his surprisingly muscular arms. He supposed vaguely that nights spent chasing down prey and fighting off opponents did much for one's musculature. Oliver was also rather disgusted with himself when he briefly entertained the notion of having the Gryffindor house team attacked by werewolves as a way to beef 'em up a bit…

The sensation of skin on skin had brought Oliver plummeting back to earth. Remus's hands were all over him, tugging urgently at his Quidditch trousers. He allowed himself to be freed of the cream colored britches and watched breathlessly as Remus wriggled out of his trousers as well. Oliver let his gaze wander unabashedly over the Remus's sinewy, scarred body. He knew a pair of amber eyes was regarding him likewise. Smiling, Lupin had entwined him in that scent, which became a taste, which seemed to carry on forever.

They had lain there, panting and heaving, clutching one another desperately... And each night of the winter holiday. When school had recommenced, things became slightly strained, but they had still found time for each other. Oliver came after each moon, to tend new wounds and bask in the scent of wolf and sky.

One night things changed. Sirius Black, traitor, murderer, former best friend, former _lover_ of Remus's came back. Guiltless, it turned out, (though Oliver was one of only a very few to know it) and more than happy to have his wolf… (_HIS WOLF!) _Back.

Then came Remus, eyes downcast. It wouldn't have worked anyhow, he had said without lifting his amber eyes from the floor. Oliver had felt at that moment that his life would never be the same. That in some way, his life was in fact over.

He had graduated from Hogwarts, and muddled through a weak tryout for the Puddlemore United Quidditch team. Normally, making only their reserve team would have shattered him. He didn't care. He was dead anyway.

Perchance a bit darkly, he had slightly rejoiced when Sirius had died at the department of mysteries. However, when Oliver visited Order of the Phoenix headquarters for a meeting shortly thereafter, and looked into the shattered amber eyes of the only one he'd ever been foolish enough to love… Oliver knew he couldn't feel joy at anything that caused Remus such pain.

Oliver had tried to comfort Remus, as the older man had done for him, but it had only felt like a manipulation. Finally, Lupin looked straight through Oliver Wood and informed him, without any emotion at all, that he, Remus J. Lupin would not love another man as long as he lived.

Oliver had felt himself die again. He had wanted been foolish in even hoping that Remus would want him once more.

The next year, at Dumbledore's funeral, that ever hopeful part of him that missed the wolf most of all, bled to see Remus holding hands with Dora Tonks. And a smattering of weeks later, his heart had shriveled into a hard black nub at the news that Tonks and Lupin had wed. By the time Oliver had heard the news that Tonks was expecting, he had nothing in his heart left to care. He had long ceased to recognize his own face in the mirror. He had long since ceased to _feel. _ He was still a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and he had continued to fight You-Know-Who and countless Death Eaters, but with the insane, reckless abandon seen only in someone with nothing left to lose.

He found himself back at Hogwarts, one not so special night, prepared to die in this pivotal battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When Lupin had bolted past him, followed closely by Dora, Oliver ran after them. He had heard, rather than seen Dora fall. He had turned and shot off a kill at the offender, dropping the Death Eater in his tracks.

He had seen the green flash of a killing curse missing its mark and turning he had come face to face with Remus John Lupin as he had stepped stupidly and bravely in front of Oliver, taking the _Avada Kedavra_ that had been meant for him. In the split second before Remus had died, amber had found brown, and strongly, clearly, Oliver heard in his mind, _I still love you._

And he knew.

Remus had crumpled to the ground before him and stepping over the werewolf's lifeless body, Oliver had set about hexing, jinxing, stunning and _killing_ every Death Eater in sight. In a daze, as the proverbial smoke had cleared and he had somehow found himself pressed here, against this window, on the inside looking out. His stony heart shattered.

A breeze stirred in the sealed room and Oliver caught an aroma that made his throat constrict. Tears that had been long overdue tumbled down his cheeks, in his mind, he heard the wolf's voice one last time.

_Live._


End file.
